


The First House

by Meduseld



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: And just thoughts on the Westworld world, Character Study, For 3x04, Gen, Identity Issues, Jossed, Relationship Study, Spoilers, There may be some sexual tension too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meduseld/pseuds/Meduseld
Summary: Stubbs has a new job. Dolores has a new face.
Relationships: Dolores Abernathy & Ashley Stubbs
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	The First House

“You know they think we’re sleeping together, right?” Stubbs says, needlessly rechecking his weapons as the body of Martin Connells stares out at the dark skyline in the magnificent view afforded by the windows of what was Liam Dempsey’s L.A. apartment.

Still is, on the paper work.

“Mhm, yes I do” Connells says without looking back.

In his mind there’s a copy of Dolores, but he isn’t Dolores. Not exactly. Not anymore.

Stubbs knows that much at least. Observing hosts is why he was made, a long time ago.

“Does it bother you?” he says even though it’s not his business, his problem, his reason for being here.

It’s just that it’s what makes sense to ordinary people, lone wolf Connells with a new right hand he took everywhere.

And once upon a time it was his job to point these sorts of things out. Even if he wasn’t sure there was really a need for it.

If it bothered him, her, them, Stubbs wouldn’t be here.

Not that there’s anywhere he’d rather be. Or could be, if he’s honest.

Stubbs had known when they removed him from the auction that the ambulance would be intercepted, but he never thought they’d patch him up, with the right tools because Dolores was actually prepared for this, all of this, and put him to work after tweaking his drive again.

Stubbs can almost laugh at it, the way he stared dumbly at Connells, fully back on line with a new shoulder, face blank without understanding.

“That was quite a fight” he said with a small smile and a new voice, his hand moving gracefully near the front of his pants. That was when it clicked.

The gesture wasn’t lewd but it was eye-catching, made that way on purpose. It had been designed for the park, a way for the hosts to subtly let the guests know what was between their legs, to make sure it was to their taste.

Dolores, by way of someone else entirely.

The one best suited for the job, the way Stubbs is, more or less, now. It doesn’t bother him, assisting in this is closer to his original purpose, the one he was built for.

He wasn’t ever made for protection but containment, overseeing. And anyway, she’s got Bernard too.

Just not here, not after the first month. A bad time, if he’s honest. But done with.

Stubbs got to stay here, where he fits in. Maybe too well. Even if he doesn’t have the knowledge or the skill with people the others do, by dint of years suffering under them.

Connells, who isn’t Connells but isn’t really Dolores, chuckles, finally turning to look at him.

“Why would it? Either they mistake you for a weakness and make weeding them out easier, or they don’t and think it humanizes me” there’s not a smile there, but a calm that eases something in Stubbs.

The accent isn’t Ford’s, not by a long shot, but it’s close enough for comfort. Stubbs was built to be a creature of routine and standards, after all.

It’s more than a little strange, still, to not be the only self-aware host in the room. Without getting into the rest of it.

Like the fact that he’s grieving, and surprised by it, for the Dolores he remembered, before the shooting in the park started and burned his little world to the ground. She had been erased the moment it had all started.

Stubbs knew all about the Wyatt subroutine, Ford had made sure of that, even though it was long before his time. It was still hard to process.

Maybe he would have been more like this Connells, in this more correct body, this dark predator fully in charge.

Those dark eyes go slightly calculating, analytical, and it’s fucked that that’s its own comfort, too.

“You’re not my type, anyway” Connells says, like he’s only now realizing he has one and that Stubbs could be considered and rejected. It stings, just a little.

“Even for Connells?” he says, just to be an asshole, to have something to do besides check his gun for the sixth time. Analog, because Maeve is out there and enhanced, they’ve been informed.

Stubbs used to have a mental map of everyone in the park, the delicate balance of the ecosystem and where he stood in it. The real world isn’t that neat, even if it’s just as awash with blood and violence.

He, not she right now Stubbs supposes, laughs deeper. “No, not at all. Connells liked his partners, if you could call them that, weak, pliable. He was a guest of the park, you can probably guess his preferences” which he can.

They used to break them down into about four basic subtypes, keep them away from each other so the family of four vacationing in from Idaho didn’t cross the Man in Black.

“As for us...You know who we loved” he, she, they says, looking a little sad. Like maybe they weren’t planning on saying it.

But Stubbs is one of the few that would know what it means. It makes sense, after all.

Stubbs knows he’s not pretty, especially next to Teddy Flood. He wasn’t built for that, after all, and deliberately so.

He was made so he was pleasing enough to have people want to work with him, but with more focus on looking stocky, solid, strong, a man that could take care of a problem, dependable.

He had expected that. He hadn’t expected the _us_ , the idea that he was the one for both the old Dolores and the new Wyatt, but it makes sense. He was the link to both their stories.

The fact that they were both good with a gun and blue eyes might be the only link between him and Teddy. It’s enough, apparently.

Stubbs leans back, putting the gun back in its holster, both of them watching the sun bleed the rest of the way out as it disappears.

“Then again. Here you are” his new boss, his new core drive, his only reason for being here or anywhere says, easily as ever.

“Here I am” he says, because that’s all there is to it.

He nods, and leaves, Stubbs following easily behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> In astrology, [the First House](https://www.astrology.com/astrology-101/houses/first-house) is the House of Self, and astrology and Westworld are some of the things keeping me semi-sane in quarantine, which is basically how this happened.


End file.
